


Shelter

by aishahiwatari



Series: McKirk shorts [10]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dogs, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Off-Screen Peaceful Animal Death, Swearing, dog shelter au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-11 18:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19545367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: Sometimes, Leonard changes up his route, but he always runs by the dog park. It's just because it's a decent sized loop, he tells himself.It certainly has nothing to do with the gorgeous man who is always there, throwing a tennis ball for his dog.Occasionally Leonard thinks he feels the burning of someone's eyes on him. He never looks back. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did, only to find out he was imagining things.





	Shelter

Leonard has a routine. He sees the same people every morning when he goes for his run, or maybe every couple of mornings. Not everybody runs every day. He probably shouldn't either. It's not good for his knees, but he's found nothing else that clears his head in the same way. Not yoga, not the gym, not circuit training. He still does all of those things, of course. Just not every day.

He doesn't speak to anyone, just nods and smiles at a couple of familiar faces. They're probably more grimaces than smiles and nobody bothers to stop and talk to him, either. That's good. He runs before coffee so his conversation would not be up to much.

Sometimes, he changes up his route, but he always runs by the dog park. It's just because it's a decent sized loop, he tells himself. It helps him manage his pace.

It certainly has nothing to do with the gorgeous man who is always there, throwing a tennis ball for his dog. It's a greyhound, maybe; Leonard doesn't know much about dogs, but he knows a little more than he should about gambling. The man -Leonard knows his name is Jim but he shouldn't because he found out by eavesdropping- is always smiling, generally engaged in friendly conversation with one of the other dog walkers, many of whom try very hard to capture his attention. There are women in tight pants, men in tight vests, but none of them manage it. He keeps breaking away to throw that ball. 

And the dog is thrilled. It runs and runs, chasing the ball and bringing it back with a determined, almost compulsive obedience. It's black and brown, with a cute kind of long face and big eyes. It shows no interest in other dogs. It just wants that ball.

If Leonard does a few laps, all without appearing to so much as glance over at the rest of the park, of course, it tires itself out, submits to petting, settles at Jim's feet to lap water from the bowl he's brought with him.

Occasionally Leonard thinks he feels the burning of someone's eyes on him. He never looks back. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did, only to find out he was imagining things.

Then again, he doesn't know what he'd do if he turned and met those startling blue eyes, either.

He has got to stop noticing the colour of strangers' eyes.

\- 

He does look less, for a while.

Until he's running one day and he has to stop because there is - holy shit- a brown dog the size of a bear gambolling towards him. It's not growling, or anything, but it's huge. Now he's not a small guy, but when this enormous, slobbering fur-ball attempts to jump up at him, he can basically meet its eyes. Or he could, if it weren't attempting enthusiastically to lick his face.

"Fuck, you're heavy. Get down." Leonard doesn't have a dog but his family always did, and he manages to disengage, cautiously pets the huge thing's head while doing all he can to avoid the generous strings of slobber the dog attempts to leave attached to him. There is a distinct doggy smell that he's sure is now clinging stubbornly to him too.

"I am so sorry!"

Leonard turns to scowl at this monsters owner, comments about training and discipline right on the tip of his tongue, and does a bit of a double take when he sees it's Jim, no greyhound in sight.

In the end, Jim gets there first. "He's really friendly but so poorly trained. Are you alright?"

The dog shoves half its body weight into Leonard's legs in search of more attention and nearly knocks him over. Jim reaches out to steady him and Leonard is too surprised to stop him.

Also, for some reason he says, "It's alright," even though he's covered in dog hair and dog slobber and the dog itself, which has sat down on his foot, staring stupidly up at the two of them, tongue lolling out. "Where did you find this thing?"

Jim grimaces through a clear attempt not to laugh. "Somebody dumped him out by the highway. They're really cute dogs when they're puppies but I guess he got too much for them."

"That's a real shame," Leonard says, and it maybe sounds like he's being sarcastic, but he's not. He pats the beasts head to prove it and Jim's expression softens.

"You in the market for a dog?"

"Oh, please. I can hardly take care of myself." Leonard snorts, realising too late that he's probably given too much away. "Plus I work all day. Wouldn't really be fair."

"What, you wouldn't quit your job for this face?" Jim reaches for the dog with both hands, pets its face, plays with its ears. It's ridiculous on such a large creature. Or at least, that's what Leonard assumes. It's Jim's face that his gaze has caught on, where it seems to be stuck. He's even more gorgeous up close. Leonard's heart thuds traitorously. Why didn't he mention that he has a seven year old daughter when he gave that explanation? He has a sinking feeling he doesn't want to put Jim off him, just yet.

"Not to one-up your adorable dog thing, but I think my patients might be a little upset if their doctor quit."

The topic has a tendency to divert a conversation, but Jim only lights up. "You could take him with you! I'm sure they'd love him."

"Thanks, but I'm afraid he will continue to be your problem for a while longer." 

They share rueful smiles for a moment, before Leonard blinks himself back to reality. "What happened to your greyhound?"

"Oh, someone took him!" Jim looks way too upbeat about that fact, and after a moment he laughs at the expression on Leonard's face. "I mean- I volunteer at the animal shelter. I foster. You know, take care of the dogs that don't cope so well in the shelter environment. Just until they find their forever home." He shrugs at the end, but it's like he's bracing for something afterwards. Leonard can imagine the usual questions he's asked at that point, has already learned a lot more about Jim than he'd thought he would in such a short conversation.

It rules out the chance of him having kids, and he's probably not in a long-term relationship, either, talking about his home life like that. He can't work full-time, not leaving such anxious dogs at home alone, and he has time to volunteer, but he manages to dress himself well enough. 

Leonard's intrigued by him. He has so many questions. But this isn't about him. He pets the dog still sitting on his steadily numbing foot. "What's his name?"

Jim looks briefly relieved before he sighs. "Peanut."

"You're kidding."

"I wish. The volunteers at the shelter name any pets who come in without a tag, so- this is Peanut. The girl I had before -who's a lurcher, not a greyhound, but they do look similar- was Biscuit. At the shelter we also have two poodles called Marsh and Mallow; a Dachshund called Zucchini and a Staffie named Choco."

"That's adorable."

"You're not the one who ends up shouting those names across the park."

Leonard laughs. "Bet it's even more embarrassing when the dog doesn't answer."

"Oh, they never answer. I'm working on clicker training, but- here. Peanut!" Jim calls, patting his leg. The dog blinks at him. Jim procures a treat from somewhere on his person and tries again. Still nothing. "They have to answer before I can reward them."

"Does that mean I'm stuck here until my foot falls off?" Leonard arches a brow, and Jim leaps into action.

"Shit- I am so sorry. I got- distracted. Peanut, come on!"

Jim eventually settles for shoving Peanut off, earns a rough, playful bark for his troubles along with an armful of enthusiastic, slobbering dog. "Okay, this is not- we need to work on the jumping up thing."

"Good luck with that," Leonard is conscious that he has to leave or risk being late, doesn't want to go, wants to stay here with this ridiculous, charming mystery of a man. 

Juggling the dog, Jim manages to make eye contact and smile. "I really am sorry about him. I'll see you around though?"

"Yeah. See you around."

-

They nod at each other and smile most mornings after that. Gradually, Peanut seems to be catching on to a selective sort of obedience. At least he seems to have stopped jumping up, although Leonard is a little disappointed that he doesn't have that excuse to stop and talk, any more.

Until one day, a few weeks later, there is no Peanut.

Leonard actually slows to a stop from his run to stare, because instead, Jim is holding three leashes that seem to be the only thing standing between his charges and absolute destruction, judging by all the barking and growling that's happening.

Thankfully, Jim is texting or something at that moment, so he misses that part of Leonard's reaction, just glances up when he sees Leonard approach at a casual stroll and smiles like he's genuinely happy to see him. He swaps hands, too, pocketing his phone and moving so he stands between Leonard and the three tiny nightmares currently attempting to pick a fight with an Akita that regards them with clear disdain and keeps walking at its owners side.

"Careful, they bite," Jim warns, although at least he can hold the tiny ridiculous things back with ease when they begin to growl in Leonard's direction.

"Are those Chihuahuas?"

"Sort of." Jim shrugs. "They're Pomeranian crosses. Allow me to introduce-" Jim pauses for the drama, or maybe from sheer embarrassment, it's difficult to tell. "Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail."

"Oh, for fucks sake."

"I know. We ended up with them when their owner got too sick to care for them, but to be honest, there hasn't been a whole lot of caring going on for a while. Hence the attitudes. Come on, guys. You're making me look bad."

He pulls out a treat and at once, all three dogs -tiny, bug-eyed, fluffy things in varying shades of brown- sit, whining as they stare up at him imploringly. Jim waits, and after a moment Leonard realises why; someone is walking past with their larger dog, but he succeeds in distracting them and breaks the treat into three parts to reward them, afterwards. They still don't look too impressed with Leonard, though. 

"We're working on it. Can't tempt you with these ones, can I?"

"No, thanks." Leonard laughs, and Jim looks unsurprised, and it's the perfect moment to mention that Leonard has a kid and yet he's still not doing it. Okay, so he doesn't have her staying with him all the time, but it's still worth mentioning. Jim has a series of behaviourally challenged dogs traipsing through his house, Leonard's situation can hardly be worse.

"You're sure? They'll be adorable by the time I've finished with them. Living up to their names."

"You're going to turn them into rabbits?"

"If only." Jim kneels, though, scoops one of the little demons up in his arms. It immediately settles, snuggling into his chest. It's adorable, but it has nothing to do with the dog. Leonard is doomed.

"Where's the shelter?" he asks. It's only slightly because he's a divorced parent with a compulsive urge to bribe his daughter to like him. Jo would love a dog. And he could do with something to keep him company when she's not around. Maybe it would keep him from spending so much time at work. He doesn't have enough of an ego to believe that they wouldn't be able to replace him if he did quit, or at least reduce his hours. He's been working too hard, for too long. He could take some patients privately, have his own small practice. He could even work from home. Therapy dogs are a thing.

And Jim beams at him, gives him a card with the address on it, seems genuinely thrilled. Maybe he just really cares about dogs, Leonard tells himself. He'd probably do the same for anybody who showed an interest in adopting the ones he's responsible for.

He browses the website on his phone at work, sees the painstakingly adorable photos of the three dogs Jim had with him that day. In their description it's mentioned that they have some behavioural issues. And they're also not house trained. Ugh. He looks at a few more pictures. Choco is still there, an adorable brown Staffordshire Terrier, but she can't be left alone and she doesn't like kids. Among others, there's an Alsatian named Mickey, a mongrel the volunteers clearly named Squash. Nothing that works for Leonard. He fills out an application form anyway, hesitates over sending it.

He checks the procedure for applying for a part time shift pattern at work, too. He lives pretty modestly, and if he were able to have Jo more often it would bring his child support bills down.

It's worth considering before he thinks too much about taking the leap of leaving entirely.

"If you can't keep a dog at home, we could always use some volunteers. Just to keep the dogs company in the day, you know? Play some games, help with their training, clean up some mess," Jim tells him brightly, when he runs the next morning. "You're already probably used to bodily fluids, with the whole doctor thing."

"I'm a psychiatric doctor."

"Well, then you definitely need a break. Are you free Saturday? I could come with you, if you're nervous."

Leonard doesn't get particularly nervous about meeting new people. He doesn't like it, but it doesn't make him nervous. He agrees anyway.

-

Jim knows everyone. He has a smile and a wave for every single volunteer, each member of staff. And yet he devotes himself to showing Leonard around, introducing him to the dogs, talking him through procedures.

Leonard’s signed up as an official volunteer before he even has time to consider what he’s doing. Jim’s attention is intoxicating, and it would feel manipulative if he had any idea what he was doing, but he seems genuinely oblivious to the power of his own attention. He certainly doesn’t respond to the cautious flirtation of one of the receptionists, who has brought him cupcakes. It’s a little awkward. Leonard doesn’t offer any help.

“You’re here often?” he asks Jim, and if it sounds like a pick-up line, well, there might be a reason for that.

“For a few hours each day. I work from home so I’m free whenever somebody needs me to bring the dogs in to meet someone who might adopt them.”

“Or whenever someone has some additional cupcakes they made by accident?”

Jim maybe flushes a little at that. It’s fucking adorable. Leonard has so many problems.

“Yeah, I didn’t buy that either. I don’t know, I think people see me, a guy who likes animals and think I’d be a good partner. They don’t see the getting up at midnight to cuddle the dog that’s vomiting from nerves all over the kitchen floor or the number of times I’ve had to scrub urine out of the carpets or have to choose somewhere to eat or stay based on where I can take a dog. It’s- kind of a lifestyle choice.”

“Sort of like having a kid.” Leonard comments, and Jim looks at him a little curiously and he has to say something, can’t put it off any more. “I have a little girl. Jo. She’s seven. Lives with her mom, most of the time.”

“It must be difficult.”

“It is. Although she has never vomited on my kitchen floor.”

“Still plenty of time for that. Maybe when she’s a teenager.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m pretending that day will never come.”

Jim smiles. He doesn’t seem put off, just contemplative, considers his words before he eventually says, “It’s difficult to make anything work, long term, when you have something in your life that’s always going to be more important than a partner. And I mean, casual’s alright. But after a while it just gets depressing.”

“Maybe you need to meet a few more single parents. Least that way you can relate.”

“That’s true. Know anybody who might be interested?”

Leonard’s confidence deserts him immediately in the face of that almost-shy look, Jim’s cautious venture. He should be better at this, has been single for long enough to get a grip on flirting. “I haven’t seen anyone at the meetings,” he settles for saying, so ambiguous it was hardly worth saying at all, but at least he’s confirmed he’s single. That’s a start, right?

“Well- hopefully I’ll be seeing you around. You can let me know if- anybody comes to mind.”

At least Jim doesn’t seem offended. A little disappointed maybe, but he perks up quickly enough when they resume the tour, taking a little time to play with Choco. She’s a nice dog. Leonard has no idea how Jim doesn’t get attached when he’s fostering. He wants to take all of the dogs home as it is.

Jim sneaks him a cupcake. They’re pretty good. Leonard makes better. Jim says he'll have to bring some in to prove it. They're almost flirting. It's like they've both acknowledged that they want to, but Leonard is terrified and Jim is determined not to push. It's- very sweet.

There's so much to navigate, anyway. Their lives are busy and they both have commitments to other, smaller beings who may not get along with each other.

But Leonard has never felt quite so inclined to try and make it work, before. That has to mean something.

-

"Daddy, look!" Jo says about every single dog they see. She's seven, bigger ever time he sees her and surprisingly strong as she drags him along.

Well, that answers the question of whether she likes them or not. It seems like her interests change wildly every time Leonard sees her so he's never entirely sure of how she'll react to new situations, but the play park is close to the dog park and she's ignoring the swings entirely in favour of the bounding animals.

It's pretty early in the day and Leonard has spoken to Jim a few times since his first visit to the shelter, but he's studiously not looking for him. He's not quite sure if he wants to see him or not, if he's ready for those two parts of his life to cross over just yet.

In the end, life makes that decision for him.

"Daddy, look!" Jo says, and something about her intonation has changed, become much more purposeful. "That doggy's in a stroller! Like a baby!"

Okay, yes, Leonard does look. And he should really have seen it coming; Jim is legitimately pushing a stroller within which is some sort of grey wiry-haired terrier.

"Don't ask," he mouths, when he catches Leonard looking.

Leonard has to ask. With Jo's hand in his and her lingering just a step behind him as he approaches, suddenly coming over all shy, he arches a brow. "What on earth is this?"

"This-" Jim waves an arm in the direction of the dog which, Leonard notices, is drooping and exhausted, eyes clouded- "Is Carlisle. He's a Welsh Terrier. And he can't walk all the way down to the park but he likes to sit here in the fresh air and meet all the other dogs, so I brought him."

"That is adorable," Leonard says, and he's pretty sure they both know he doesn't mean the dog. 

Jim gives him a shy smile, and then meets Jo's eyes. "Well hi there, what's your name?"

Jo knows better than to talk to strangers, looks to Leonard first, who nods encouragingly. "I'm Jo, nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too. I'm Jim. And this is my friend Carlisle, and he's very old so you can't play with him like he's a puppy but he's very friendly and he'd love it if you petted him some. If you want."

Oh, God, he's good with kids. Leonard doesn't know what to think, somehow manages to say, "Go ahead," when Jo looks at him for permission. "Just be careful. You don't want to scare him." 

He might be imagining the look he receives in return, might be delusional if he reads it as a reflection of his own panic, as Jim thinking oh God, he's good with animals.

They smile at each other, and Jo settles on the grass to carefully pet Carlisle, who weakly lifts his head and wags his tail.

-

That poor dog is not in a good way, but every morning Jim brings him to the park, and every morning Jo wants to visit him. It's not dishonest, is it, for Leonard not to tell her that he wants to go for entirely different reasons. He makes casual conversation with Jim, gets to know him, finds out that he lives in the same neighbourhood, alone as Leonard suspected, and although he's had roommates there are no relationships he considers significant enough to bring up. He does some martial arts to stay in shape, and if he notices Leonard's gaze roaming contemplatively over his arms, the thin strip of skin exposed at his stomach when he stretches, he says nothing. He does smile, though, lazy and a little pleased.

Leonard shares a little, too. He enjoys cooking, although he laments that he never has time for it any more. He even hints that he's been thinking about spending less time at work, Jo safely absorbed in the colouring book she's laid out on the grass in front of Carlisle. Leonard is pretty sure dogs are colour blind. He doesn't have the heart to say anything to her.

Occasionally Jim reaches out to pet Carlisle. He's brought water with him, and Carlisle will occasionally get shakily to his feet and take a few laps from his bowl, or stagger away into the bushes to relieve himself. Jim always picks it up, dutifully, in little baggies he's brought with him. Responsibility should not be nearly as attractive on him as it is.

They repeat the routine for a few more days. Until, one morning, there is no Carlisle. Jim's sitting on the grass, throwing a ball for a Golden Retriever that overshoots every time it goes after it and has to come hurtling back. It's pretty cute. Jo slows as they approach, and when Jim sees them, his face creases in sympathy.

Leonard had thought it was too much to hope that somebody had adopted him. He squeezes Jo's shoulder.

"What happened to Carlisle?" Jo asks, with a bit of a wobble in her voice. She's not so young that she doesn't know what happens when animals get sick. For a moment, Leonard wonders why Jim hadn't warned him in advance. He has his number, could have let him know to prepare Jo for the possibility.

But then Jim kneels up, gets himself on a level with Jo, and says, "I'm sorry. He died last night. I took him home after his walk and he just curled up on his bed and went to sleep. When I checked on him a couple of hours later, he was already gone."

Jo stiffens, shifts a little closer into Leonard's side until he puts an arm around her, holding her close. He's glad to see that Jim makes no attempt to touch her, even to comfort her, and Jo doesn't seem to expect him to. He could have avoided talking about it at all, Leonard knows, could have just messaged him and absolved himself of all responsibility for delivering the news. But he didn't. He had wanted to own it. Leonard's heart squeezes, and not just in sympathy for the dog and for Jim's loss.

"He had a good life, though. He only came into the shelter a little while ago and when he came to stay with me, when I brought him to the park every day, so he got to see the other dogs and the lovely people like you? He was happy."

"He was a good dog," Jo sniffles as she agrees, wiping her nose. "I bet he was glad you were his owner."

Jim looks a little teary himself at that, gives Jo a slightly shaky smile. Leonard really, really likes him.

And Jo's a little subdued at first, but she likes Bean, the Retriever. She takes over throwing the ball for her for a while, squeals and laughs when she licks her face. And if Leonard sits a little closer to Jim than he should, so close that their arms just brush, even though he's got a whole park of grass he could be sitting on, and he flushes a little when Jim looks at him curiously, flushes a little more when Jim smiles, well. Jo doesn't notice.

-

Leonard puts in a request at work to reduce his hours. It's accepted. He'll be on call, sometimes required at short notice, but he'll essentially only work half as many shifts as before, in a schedule that works with his existing patients rather than focusing on taking on new ones. He doesn't think too much about how excited he is to tell Jim.

He takes Jo out for ice cream sundaes to celebrate, though. Before he says anything, she asks if that means she can come and stay some more, because she misses him, and he nearly bursts into tears right there in the diner. It's irrational, he knows, to wonder if she forgets about him when she's with her mother, at the house she so innocently refers to as home.

"Of course, sweetheart. I've just gotta arrange it with your mom, okay?"

"Okay. Can we go see the dogs today?"

-

Except Leonard doesn't have to walk all the way to a park to see dogs, apparently. He leaves the house, and on his street, wandering about with no sign of anything resembling an owner, is a Husky. He puts an arm out to stop Jo from approaching it immediately, with no idea if it's friendly or not, beckons to it himself as he approaches cautiously. The dog sniffs at him cautiously, submits to petting, sits happily enough when Leonard hooks a couple of fingers in its collar and checks the tag. There's just a phone number, and when Leonard rings it he really shouldn't be surprised that Jim answers with casual familiarity.

"Hey, Bones, I really don't have time to talk right now-"

"Is that because you're missing a dog?"

A brief pause. "Maybe."

"You didn't give me your number, you know."

"I- oh! You found him! Great! He's friendly. He just- please don't let him go. He has no recall. Can you hang on to him? I'll come get him, just- where are you?"

Leonard begins to say, then stops. "What the heck did you just call me?"

Jim's response is a shrill sound, and a vague, "Long story. You, uhh- never actually told me your name, until you signed all those forms at the centre, so I made one up. Forest Street, you said?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I'll see you in two!" Jim hangs up. Leonard dreads to think of the thought process that brought him to that nickname. It sounds vaguely sexual.

"Did you get me to sign up at the shelter just so you could find out my real name?" he asks, when Jim arrives, flushed and flustered and hair a mess but somehow still just as gorgeous as ever, and grinning unrepentantly.

"Maybe."

"You never told me yours either, you know. Introducing yourself might have helped."

"You don't know my name?"

Shit. Leonard walked right into that one. Jim beams at him, as he clips a leash onto the collar of the Husky, offers his fist for Jo to bump.

"Why are you still using the nickname, if you know my real name?" Leonard asks, in lieu of answering. If he thinks he's getting away with it, Jim's smirk strongly suggests otherwise.

"You don't look like a Leonard. That's an old person's name."

"He is old," Jo comments, helpfully. 

It makes Jim give him a contemplative once-over that Leonard returns with a glare. "I mean, like, grandpa old."

"His middle name is Horatio," Jo also comments, even less helpfully.

"Okay, that's worse. But-" Jim pauses dramatically as he whips out his wallet, and his driver's license, to provide proof. "My middle name is Tiberius. So- glass houses, and all that."

"Wow," Leonard peers at the card, pretends not to also check the date of birth. Just out of curiosity. Jim is only a few years younger than him. Not that it matters. He's just a guy Leonard sees in the park and now apparently on the street sometimes. A guy whose number he now has in his phone.

"Did you want to come in for a drink? Coffee, or something?" Leonard's asked, before he even realises he's going to speak.

At the question, Jim just looks surprised, but pleasantly so. Then he nods, biting his lip in a way that is deeply distracting. "Sure. I'd love to. Can I bring Pepper?"

Leonard stares at him for the few moments it takes that sentence to make sense. "The dog?"

"Pepper," Jim confirms, gesturing at the dog. 

"Is he gunna crap on my carpet?"

"No?"

"He can stay in the kitchen."

"You got it, Bones."

-

"It's from- God, it's gunna make me sound crazy." Jim sighs. They're sat at his kitchen table, drinking coffee, Pepper sniffing around curiously at their feet. Jo is not entertained by a dog uninterested in letting her pet it, so she's retreated to her room to read. Leonard can't help but feel like he's been slightly misleading, inviting Jim in for coffee and actually meaning the hot beverage. He'd love the freedom and ability to make it a more innuendo-laden offer.

But he loves Jo more. And Jim seems genuinely like he doesn't mind.

"The first time I saw you, you were running in the park, and I was walking Biscuit, and you had those gloves on. You know, those black ones with the bones on?"

Leonard stares at him like he's insane for a moment, can't cast his mind back to make enough sense of that until, in a flash, he does. "Oh! I borrowed those from Jo. They're- those magic ones. That stretch. It was cold. And I couldn't find my black ones." It feels a little like he should be more defensive about it, except, "That was months ago."

"You're- really hot." 

Leonard doesn't mean to smile, but he can't help it. He stares down into his coffee with pink cheeks and a warmth spreading slowly through him.

Jim watches him with a soft smile of his own.

-

Leonard's reading on the couch when he hears a tap at the window. At first, he's sure he's imagining things, but then it comes again and he gets out of his seat to investigate, a little warily. It's pretty late, and Jo's asleep upstairs.

Except when he opens the drapes, he sees Jim there. Jim, who knows full well where his front door is, but raises a finger to his lips when Leonard inhales, planning to point that out. Unconvinced, Leonard slides the large panel of the window open as quietly as he can; he doesn't want to wake Jo with any of Jim's ludicrous antics, whether they're giving him stupid, hopefully butterflies or not.

"What are you doing?" he asks in a whisper, as Jim leans in through the window.

"I shouldn't even be here. This is definitely- not something I should be doing. But you've done so much, and I just can't stop thinking about you, and what you said-" Jim's so close to him, has to be with the way they're both leaning in to whisper. He's flushes, and a little ruffled, like he's been running his hands through his hair, contemplating whether this is a good idea or not. Leonard wants to prove that it is.

Jim makes a surprised little sound when Leonard reaches for him, and he doesn't have to go far, barely has to guide him into a kiss, because it might be a terrible idea but it's one he wants, isn't willing to let go of, and Jim is here, rambling and unsure, his skin warm beneath Leonard's palms, his hair soft between Leonard's fingers. He's always been perfect and Leonard won't have him doubt that, not for an instant.

"God- fuck-" Jim gasps, kisses him back with enthusiasm and skill, grasps at Leonard's shirt and clings, as though there can be any way Leonard's going to stop now he's touched him, now he's felt Jim against him. They've been dancing around it for too long, and Leonard knows he's been the one holding them back, but he's not going to do that any more. From the way Jim responds to him, it's pretty clear he doesn't have to. He's solid and real and the angle is awkward but Leonard never wants to let him go, and when this kiss ends, he has to return to his regular life, to being a father and a role model and not making out through open windows at ungodly hours of the night.

He drags it out, turns one long kiss into several, Jim making sweet little breathy sounds every time he does, but it has to end. Jim is even more flushed, even more flustered than when he arrived, but he gives Leonard a broad, genuine smile, strokes at the wrinkles he's left in Leonard's shirt. "This isn't why I came here," he confesses, continuing on before Leonard can really absorb that. "I mean, I'm not complaining. That was amazing. I've wanted it for so long, since before we even spoke, I think, but- I actually had to ask you something."

Leonard wonders whether he should apologise or something for jumping to conclusions, for diving right into that when all Jim wanted was to have an important conversation that couldn't wait. He feels ridiculous, suddenly, about the whole thing, instinctively wants to withdraw-

"Please don't take it back." Jim catches his hand, gives him a hopeful smile, pleads with his eyes. "I didn't come here for that but I'm glad it happened. I want it to happen again- if you also want. I'm trying not to push but I'm worried it's not clear that I'm interested, so interested in you-"

Leonard leans in for another brief kiss because it's the only way he can think to stop those words in their tracks. The embarrassment isn't gone, but it's definitely better. A little of the ice that had taken hold of his heart melts away, it feels like, in the face of that smile.

"I'm interested in you, too. But I don't date, ever, so- don't let me fuck this up," Leonard manages to say, and Jim positively beams. "Now what the hell are you doing here and what do you have against my front door?"

"I was trying to be subtle."

"You failed."

"I'm pretty pleased with how it worked out, overall." Jim licks his lips, leans in with a question in his eyes and Leonard has to humour him, has to kiss him again after denying them both for so long. Jim looks supremely pleased with himself afterwards. "But anyway, I shouldn't be doing this, but when they came in, I thought of you, and I just kept thinking of you, and you can't tell anyone I'm doing this, alright, but I needed to let you have first refusal, and I knew you wouldn't want me to spring it on you or Jo, so- just look."

And Jim reaches down to pick up the dog crate by his side, lifting it so the light form inside the house shines onto the living, breathing lump of fur inside. It takes Leonard a moment to reconcile what he's looking at; four Dalmatian puppies, all huddled together. They're gorgeous, and adorable, and Leonard reaches out to just touch the bar of the cage with a finger, unable to quite believe any of this is real. He wants to pinch himself because it all feels like an improbable dream, the sort of thing that happens in the stories he reads to Jo every night before bed.

"What happened to them?" he doesn't entirely want to know.

"Someone just left them in a box outside the police station yesterday. They- might have some problems, I won't lie. Dalmatians can be born partially deaf. But- they're so loyal, and friendly, but still decent guard dogs. They'd be perfect for what you want. And I know you said- you're not always around during the day. But I can help. What do you think?"

Leonard stares at the puppies for a few moments longer. One of them blinks sleepy eyes in his direction. If he thinks about it any longer, he'll talk himself out of it, and regret it forever. "I'll take that one," he says, pointing to those lovely, dark eyes.

"Proud of you, Bones."

Leonard doesn't even remember to object to the nickname, too busy focusing on the tiny lump amidst the bigger collective lump that's eased away from its siblings and deposited gently in his hands. It's so tiny and fragile, Leonard holds it to his chest, feeling his protective instincts flare. Jim talks about caring for it for a full five minutes before anything registers, and what finally sinks in is that Jim needs to get back to the shelter to leave the other puppies there for the night.

"Will you come back? After you've dropped them off?"

"You'll be okay, Bones. You raised a kid."

"That's not why. I want to see you."

Jim blinks, his expression melting slowly into cautiously pleased. "Alright. I'll come back. I'll bring bowls and some food. Maybe some toys. Blankets." He gets a funny sort of misty-eyed expression when he looks at Leonard holding the puppy, then. "You look good together."

He looks back a few times as he leaves, depositing the crate gently in the back of his car and then driving away. Somehow, Leonard closes the window without dislodging the lovely, sleeping puppy in his arms, and goes to figure out where it's going to sleep.

Jo is visibly confused when she comes down in the morning to find both Leonard and Jim asleep on the kitchen floor, wrapped in blankets, a bleary-eyed but quickly awakening Dalmatian puppy emerging from a nest of its -her- own between them. 

She's thrilled.

Leonard's pretty thrilled too.

Jim stays for breakfast. When Leonard forgets himself and kisses his cheek, Jo just wrinkles her nose and says they're gross. It's a pretty normal reaction from her.

"I can't believe kids think I'm gross. I feel so old," Jim complains when Leonard takes him upstairs to show him where everything is and also press him against the wall and kiss him hard until he melts. It doesn't take long. But Leonard has to get back and Jim needs a shower before he gets back to the shelter to help out with all the interest in the remaining puppies. At least he's between foster dogs at that point. Almost like he planned the whole thing.

He'll deny it, if Leonard asks him, so Leonard just kisses him again in lieu of saying thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [Tumblr](https://aishahiwatari.tumblr.com/)


End file.
